


Infestation

by afteriwake



Series: Unexpected Legacies [4]
Category: Arthurian Mythology, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3301754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly calls Sherlock one evening shortly after the Eynsford case after hearing a buzzing sound and seeing a strange woman with bugs on her face at the foot of the bed. It turns out Molly's house is infested with dark magic imbued insects who want nothing more than to kill anyone in the home. After Sherlock gets poisoned by one of them he and Merlin begin to work on taking care of the threat and getting Molly her home back...if they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is another story inspired by one of the Disease prompts at the Spook Me ficathon over at Livejournal. [This image](http://s3.postimg.org/yzn5nmnw3/image.jpg) by Peony Yip is the basis for the insect controlling bad guy. Hopefully I will not take too long to finish this story...
> 
> My dear friend **the-best-damn-avocado** over on Tumblr did an amazing piece of fanart for this fic when the artist who was supposed to do something for the WIP Ficathon bailed on me. I love it so much and I'm so thankful for it. If you love it as well, show it some love by giving it likes and reblogs [on the original post](http://the-best-damn-avocado.tumblr.com/post/131944007606/penaltywaltz-asked-eons-ago-i-should-add-and)!

They had been back home a little over a week when he got the call. It was nearly one in the morning and Sherlock had just decided to put his newest case aside because he had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, as though something was wrong. He couldn’t figure out what it was, though, so he felt it best to see how things were in the morning. He had just entered his bedroom and begun to shed his clothing when his mobile went off. He picked it up with a frown and saw it was Molly calling, and so he answered it immediately. “Molly? Is everything all right?”

“No. No, it’s not,” she said. “I had a nightmare and when I woke up there was someone...no, some _thing_ at the foot of my bed. It’s gone now, but...”

“Do you want me to come there?” he asked.

“Yes. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“I can be there in a few minutes,” he said. 

“Thank you, Sherlock,” she said. “Just don't pop up in the middle of my sitting room. I couldn't take that right now. Knock and I’ll let you in.”

“All right,” he said. He heard a click on her end and then lowered his mobile. Merlin had paid her a visit when they had returned to London and found out she had enough power to see ghosts and the threads of a magic spell, and he was going to include her in Sherlock's next lesson to see if she actually had enough power to do small bits of magic. But Merlin hadn't been sure how much power she actually had, and right now that concerned him. If she could see ghosts but not interact with them that could pose some problems in the future. He began to get dressed and then went to the sitting room to grab his coat. If they needed to leave her residence and he couldn't use magic he didn't want to be too cold. He cast the spell he used for traveling and landed in the alley nearby, and then he made his way up to her home, knocking on the door when he got there. “Molly?”

He heard her undo the locks and then a moment later the door opened. He took a good look at her. Whatever she had seen had spooked her severely. She was wearing her pyjamas with no dressing gown over it, and it appeared as though she had been biting one of her fingernails. The minute she saw the obvious concern he knew he wore on his face she relaxed slightly, moving forward to put her arms around his waist. “I was so scared,” she said, her voice slightly muffled because she buried her face in his chest.

He embraced her back. “Had you seen the ghost before tonight?”

“No,” she said. “I had seen one or two but they weren't very horrifying. This one was, however.”

“Have you seen it since you left your bedroom?”

She pulled away from him at that point. “No,” she said, shaking her head.

He nodded and stepped inside her home. He knew it fairly well, or at least most of it. He had intimate knowledge of the downstairs area from relaxing there after having lessons at her home since she had an enclosed backyard, and he'd spent some time in the guest bedroom after a spell casting session had worn him out. So he knew parts of her home well, but her bedroom had been an area he had not gone to yet. “Can you tell me more about what you saw?” he asked.

“I hadn't bolted upright from the nightmare, but I'd woken up to a buzzing sound. Anyway, when I finally sat up I saw a young woman, with bobbed hair, shorter than mine. There were all these insects on her, and one was crawling out of her mouth when she opened it. She moved forward and I panicked, grabbing my mobile and heading down here, hoping she wouldn't follow. And she didn't, but I can still hear the buzzing.”

He had heard it too, and it concerned him. He moved further into her home, moving towards one of the walls. The closer he got to the wall the louder the buzzing was. After a moment's hesitation he put a hand on the wall and sent out a tiny push of magic to see what was on the other side. He could feel something there, something that felt very evil. Molly had gotten incredibly lucky, he realized. “You need to go to your room and pack a bag. It's not safe for you to stay here,” he said as he pulled his hand away.

“What? Why?” she asked.

“Your home has become infested with something that means to do you harm. If the things behind your wall come out they could hurt you or worse.” He moved back towards her. “I can protect your bedroom for the moment, to give you time to get your things. But we need to hurry.”

She nodded, looking just slightly panicked. He went to her stairs and began to climb them with her right behind him. He knew where her bedroom was, and so he made his way down the hallway to it once he got to the top of the stairs. He opened the door slowly and stepped inside, casting the protection spell as he did. He'd hoped the ghostly woman would be there so he could get a better idea of what he was dealing with but he wasn't so lucky. Molly stepped into the room and went to her bed, pulling out a large piece of luggage from underneath it. “How much should I bring?”

“Plan for two weeks,” he said. “I doubt it will take that long but it's better to be prepared in the event that it does. I don't want you to come back until it's safe.”

She nodded and put the first piece of luggage on the bed and then pulled out a smaller bag. “Where am I going to be staying?”

“In my home. I can have you stay in one of the other bedrooms. The one next to John has a bed,” he said as she set the smaller bag on the bed.

“Do I have to?” she asked. “I mean, we shared the room at the manor. I would...” She looked down as she trailed off.

“You would feel better if we shared the same room,” he finished.

She nodded. “I've had nightmares. Not just tonight. And it's getting to the point where I don't want to sleep. If I'm not alone, maybe I can actually get some rest.”

He moved closer to her. “If it will make it easier for you to stay in my room with me then I don't mind.”

She looked up and gave him a relieved smile. “Thank you.”

“Go ahead and start packing. The sooner we get you out of here the better.” She nodded again and began going to her closet and pulling things out. She put them into her larger suitcase and then went to her dresser and began opening drawers. It took her another fifteen minutes to get things from there into her suitcase. He kept his senses up to listen to the buzzing in the walls, to make sure nothing was going to happen, but it was slowly growing louder. Soon her large suitcase was packed and she looked over at him. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“I need to get some things from the loo,” she replied, picking up the smaller bag. “And a few things from my sitting room as well.”

“All right,” he said with a nod. He got the suitcase and left the room first. She followed, and they both went into her washroom. She began getting things, putting them into the smaller bag. She had just finished when the buzzing began to get ear piercing. Then he saw the woman Molly had described outside the open doorway. She lifted up her hand towards them. “We don't have any more time.”

“What's going on?” she asked, moving towards him.

“No time!” he said. She reached over for his shoulder as he cast the spell. He wasn't quite finished when the first insect burst through the washroom wall and flew towards them. Sherlock swatted it away with his free hand as he finished the spell and suddenly they were outside. He let go of the suitcase and began doing a containment spell, directing it towards the home. There was a glow surrounding the building that seemed to seep into the stone and then it stopped. Sherlock slumped slightly when that happened. There had been something pushing at the spell with every amount of force it could muster, and he had been successful, but he felt off. He felt cold and incredibly weak.

Molly went over to the front door and her eyes were wide as she watched something fly into the stained glass. She jumped slightly at the impact before turning to Sherlock. “What the bloody hell happened?” she asked.

“The insects that infested your home were called forth,” he said. “Their intent was to kill us. I've made sure they can't get out, but we also can't get in. I'm sorry.”

“I'm just glad we're alive,” she said, taking a step back and then another as the insect continuously flew at the window. The glass cracked but did not break. Then she went over to Sherlock. “Can you get us back to your home?”

“I don't know,” he admitted. “It took a lot of effort to contain them, and I still need to cloak your home so no one attempts to go in.”

“Well, I don't have any money. I left my handbag inside,” she said.

“I have money,” he said. He took another minute to catch his breath before straightening up. He focused on her home again and cast the second spell. The area around the home shimmered, and when he was sure it was set he turned to her. The spellwork was taking more out of him than it usually did, and he felt so weak. “We can leave now.”

“But my home is shimmering,” she said.

“It looks that way to us. To everyone else it will appear as though everything is normal.” He took a step towards her but staggered.

“You should have drawn strength from me,” she said, rushing over to him. She supported him by worming her way under his arm “We need to get you home.”

“I might have enough strength to get us back,” he said.

“Well, I'm not risking it,” she said. She thought for a moment. “Do you think you have enough strength to locate something in my home and bring it to us?”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I have a car. If you can get me my handbag my keys are in it.”

He thought for a moment. “I can try, but with the containment spell I might not be able to.”

“Try anyway,” she said.

He nodded. He knew where she kept her handbag, on a table near her front door. He pictured the handbag and then cast the spell to call items to him. The handbag landed on the ground in front of him, but as Molly moved from his side and went to reach for it a bug crawled out. Molly looked at it with wide eyes as it made its way towards her, and she put out a hand towards it. Suddenly it was on fire, and the night air was filled with an inhuman scream for a minute before all was silent again. Both Molly and Sherlock stared at the burnt carcass as the fire winked out. “Did I do that?” Molly asked.

“No, I did.” They both turned to see Merlin approaching them from the side. He moved to the handbag and knelt down, peering into it. “That was the only one of those buggers in it,” he said before picking it up and handing it to Molly. 

“What are those things?” Sherlock asked.

“Something very nasty,” Merlin said. He looked over at Sherlock. “What were you thinking trying to bring something from inside that house?”

“Car keys,” Molly said, rummaging through her bag. “I can't get him and my things to a cab. I'm not strong enough. But I can get him to my car over there.” She absently pointed over Merlin's shoulder. “But I suppose with you here we don't need to.”

“We're going to anyway,” he said, taking a good look at Sherlock. “It's not a good idea to leave it here because it can be tampered with. When we get to Sherlock's I'll make sure it's magically protected. But we need to get you somewhere safe.”

“I'm going to drop soon,” Sherlock said, lifting his hand up in a way reminiscent of trying to be noticed at school. “I can already tell it took a lot out of me.”

Molly looked over at Sherlock's hand and her eyes widened. “The one that flew at you hurt you,” she said.

“Damn,” Merlin said, moving next to Sherlock and picking up his hand. There was a cut on his palm, only a few inches, but Sherlock could see it needed attention. “Sherlock's been poisoned, and using magic sped it up. We need to get him back now and then I need to get to work.”

“Can you drive?” Molly asked Merlin.

“Well enough,” he said. “Not that I need to. I can just use magic to send your car to Baker Street.”

She handed him her keys. “Get my things in the boot while I get Sherlock in the back. I'll stay back there with him and make sure he's conscious. I mean, he's immortal, right? This won't kill him?” Merlin didn't answer, instead looking down. “What aren't you saying, Merlin?”

“He can't die by conventional means. But magic...magic might be able to kill him,” he said.

“I won't die,” Sherlock said through gritted teeth. “But I need to lie down now.”

“Then let's get you in the car,” Molly said, putting an arm around Sherlock's waist. Merlin grabbed her bags as Molly guided a stumbling Sherlock to her car. He was starting to lose consciousness and quickly, he realized. He didn't bother with waiting for Merlin to unlock the door, instead sending a push of magic to do it himself. “Stop using magic, Sherlock,” she said.

“It's faster,” he said. She got him to the car and he pulled away from her, getting in. She got in next to him and buckled up. He wasn't concerned about doing the same at the moment because it was taking everything he could to stay awake. When she was settled he stretched out as best he could, ending up with his head in her lap. He felt chilled to the bone, and he could feel himself start to shake. Molly began to smooth down his hair as he shut his eyes.

“Don't close your eyes,” she said. “Look at me. Talk to me and stay awake.”

“We should have left sooner,” he said, opening his eyes. “Or I should have done the spell in the washroom. Then this wouldn't have happened.”

“You'll be okay,” she said. “I have faith in Merlin's ability to heal you.”

“I'm just glad you weren't hurt,” he said.

“You did a very good job keeping me safe,” she said, giving him a small smile.

“I'll always keep you safe,” he said in response, shutting his eyes again.

“Eyes open, Sherlock. I know it's hard, but if you close your eyes it will be easier to slip into unconsciousness. Think of it as though you have a concussion.” His eyes fluttered open. “We'll get you home and we'll get you better.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” she said as Merlin got in the car. She pulled her gaze away from him. “How soon will we get there?”

“Soon,” he said. “I need to concentrate, but I'll get us there in a minute or so.”

Sherlock watched her nod and then she looked at him again. “Molly?” he asked.

“Yes?” she asked.

“I can't stay awake much longer,” he said.

“We'll be there in a minute,” Merlin said. “I just need to make sure I can transport the car to an empty spot.”

“Please, just hang on,” Molly said. She looked up again. There was a glow outside the window next to her and then it was gone. “We're here, Sherlock. Just stay awake a little while longer.”

“I'm going to send the two of you into his room. Keep him talking,” Merlin said as he opened the car door.

“All right,” she said. Merlin shut it behind him and then after a few seconds Molly's door opened. Sherlock shut his eyes again at that point, and he felt the familiar feeling of the transportation spell before he felt a soft mattress under his back. “Talk to me, Sherlock.”

“I won't succumb to this,” Sherlock said as he felt Molly ease his head off her lap onto the mattress. “I'm too stubborn to die.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. “You're the most stubborn man I've ever met.”

“Right now it's all I can do to stay awake,” he said.

“Just a little while longer. At least until Merlin tells you you can sleep,” she replied.

“Will you stay here tonight?”

“If Merlin will let me, yes,” she said. “I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Good,” he said. He opened his eyes and didn't see her right away, and so he moved his head to see if she was close. It hurt to do that, as his muscles felt stiff. Whatever it was that had poisoned him was a nasty piece of work. She saw what he was doing and reached over for his hand, and he squeezed it as best he could. “I should keep talking.”

“Yes, you should,” she said. “Tell me about your case.”

“All right.” He started going into details, and continued until he heard the bedroom door shut. “Merlin?”

“It's me,” Merlin said in response. “I need him lying down like he's going to sleep for the night. And I need him on the edge of the bed, not the middle.”

“I'll help move him,” Molly said, and Sherlock could feel her get off the bed. The two of them situated him, and then he heard Merlin say something quietly to her and she was back on the bed, grasping his hand again.

“Sherlock, you can sleep now,” Merlin said. “And hopefully when you wake up you'll be just fine.”

Sherlock gave the barest of nods and sank into the bed a bit. It didn't take long for obliviousness to set in, and the last thing he thought about was that if this didn't work at least Molly was safe. He had kept her safe, and Merlin would continue to do that. And then he thought nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing he realized when he slowly started to wake up was that he wasn't cold anymore. The bone deep chill that had settled over him was gone, replaced by a sense that he was actually overheated. It took him a moment to realize that he was still in his suit and coat, and that he had a quilt pulled over him. The next thing he realized was that he wasn't alone in the bed. He opened his eyes and turned his head, wincing slightly at how stiff his body felt, but he saw Molly was curled up on her side, her arm draped over his waist and her head on his chest. She was sleeping, and seeing as how he had no clue how long she had actually been asleep he felt it best to try not to wake her up.

“You're awake,” he heard Merlin say from in front of him. He turned his head back and saw Merlin had brought in a chair. Two chairs, actually; the other one was occupied by John, who had his head tilted back and was snoring softly. “I thought you'd be out for at least a few more hours.”

“How long was I asleep?” he asked.

“Twenty hours, give or take,” Merlin said. He leaned forward in his chair. “She barely left your side. John had to make her leave to get something to eat, and she rushed through it so she'd be here if you woke up.”

“I'm grateful,” he said. He shifted slightly and began to sit up a bit more. “How long has she been asleep?”

“An hour. She stayed awake the entire time until she couldn't anymore.”

“Then perhaps I shouldn't move,” he said.

“Well, I need you to drink something, so you're going to have to sit up,” Merlin said. “But I can keep her asleep a little while longer, at least.” Sherlock nodded, and he felt Merlin push a little pulse of magical energy towards her. When the spell settled Sherlock carefully got Molly's head onto the pillow next to him and then sat up. Every muscle in his body ached as he did it, and when he was done Merlin came over to his bedside and put his hand on a teapot that was sitting on it. He could feel another small push of magic as Merlin heated the pot up, and then Merlin poured him a cup of tea. “It's an herbal tea, and it's a little bitter, but you want to drink it plain.”

“What is it going to do?” Sherlock asked as Merlin handed him the cup.

“Relieve the last few aftereffects of the poison,” he said. “You'll start to feel better when you've finished up the cup, and you'll be completely back to normal once you have the entire pot.”

Sherlock nodded slightly and took a sip. It was bitter, but no worse than bad coffee that had sat for hours at Scotland Yard. He dutifully drank the entire cup, and when he was done Merlin poured him another full cup. “What were those bugs?” he asked as he took the cup back.

“I think the one that got you was a giant Japanese hornet. The one I killed crawling out of Molly's handbag was an assassin bug. As you may have noticed, they were much larger than the actual specimens are. They aren't typical bugs that have been super-sized, though. Whatever effect the normal bug would have on a human is negated because they have a unique poison running through their veins, no matter what species it is, and for people who have magical abilities it saps them of their powers before it kills them. They are among the most dangerous creatures in the world.”

“How did they get in Molly's home?” he asked before drinking more of the tea. “And why?”

“I can only make guesses at both of those. The how, I would imagine, was that someone sent the evil spirit who can control them to her home and she found all the small ways a house is exposed to get the larvae inside the walls. They grow extremely fast, so larvae introduced in the morning would have been fully grown by yesterday evening. As for the why, I think it was meant to hurt you. The other side knows she's important to you, and the blow you dealt them must have been worse than I had thought.”

“What's to stop whoever did that from doing it here?” he asked.

“I laid down wards on this home long ago, when you first moved in. I do it at the home of every descendent I've been able to find. Most never develop magical powers, and the few who have usually deny they have them or grow mad, for the most part. I can only protect people so much.”

“So I'm not the first?” Sherlock asked, his eyes wide.

“You're not even in the single digits,” Merlin said. “But you are the most powerful, and you're the first to be immortal like I am and impervious to harm. You're also the first one who's made it a point to learn how to control your powers and use them for good.”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. “So others have done the same, only walked down a different path.”

Merlin nodded. “Not everyone is a good man. Or woman, for that matter. I've fought some of them from time to time. That is always the hardest part, having to stop one of my descendants from becoming a plague on the world. Very few of them had the imperviousness to harm, however, and those few were entombed by magic in the end. None of them were cursed like you were, though. They were all mortal. Eventually they all died.”

“Would the poison really have killed me?” he asked.

“It could have, or it could have completely sapped you of your powers but left you your immortality. I don't know for sure, but I wasn't about to take any risks. You have a long fight ahead of you and you need all the help you can get. Losing your powers would have made you and anyone you hold dear vulnerable.”

Sherlock drank some more of his tea, and when he finished the cup he reached over and poured more himself. His movements were much less stiff and he felt less sore now. When his cup was full he took another sip. “How do we stop them?”

“The bugs are easy enough to kill,” Merlin said. “I don't imagine Molly wants her house burnt down but they need to be burned. There's a magical fire that can do that and not actually burn buildings down. That spell is fairly complicated, because if you get even a word of it wrong you'll have a real fire on your hands, but I can teach it to you and help you cast it over her entire home.”

“I sense there's more to it, though,” Sherlock said.

Merlin nodded. “The woman Molly saw at the foot of her bed controls them. She needs to be defeated and her body bound in a special way before it's burnt on a pyre of elm. There are only a handful of those evil spirits left in the world now, thanks to people who study the things that go bump in the night, but they put up quite a fight. The bugs they control live inside them, and they can call them forth to attack you. It's best to go after them with backup.”

“Wonderful,” Sherlock murmured.

“That's not even the best part,” Merlin said with an unamused smile. “They can only be bound and killed on a moonless night, which means we have a week until we can fight back.”

Sherlock looked down at Molly. He imagined she was not going to like hearing that bit of news. “We'll start training imm--” He stopped himself when he saw Molly begin to toss and turn as she whimpered. “She's having a nightmare.”

Merlin nodded. “I can help, but only if she's awake.”

“Lift the spell,” Sherlock said, setting his cup next to the pot. He felt Merlin release the spell and he leaned over and shook Molly awake. Her eyes flashed open and she looked panicked for a second before she saw Sherlock was the one who woke her. She sat up and put her arms around his neck, and he held her close. “It's all right, Molly. You're safe.”

“I was back at the manor, and I was at the organ and my life was...” She trailed off and he could feel a tear fall on his neck. He tightened his hold on her. “I was dying all over again.”

“There's a residue in your head from the spell that witch cast that's influencing your dreams,” Merlin said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “I can help get rid of it, if you want. You might still have nightmares, but they won't be as bad, and they won't have any potential ill effects.”

Molly pulled away from Sherlock and looked at him. “What do you have to do?” she asked.

“I need you to drink something and then let me peer inside your dreams when you go back to sleep,” Merlin said. “The potion will clear away the physical residue and I'll clean up the metaphysical residue. It won't hurt you and it won't affect any other aspect of your mind.”

She thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “All right. I trust you.”

“Then I'll get started making the potion,” Merlin said, getting off the bed. “Finish drinking the tea, Sherlock. I'll be back in about a half hour. I just need to get some ingredients that you don't have here.”

“Where are you getting them from?” Sherlock asked.

“From my workroom,” he said. “When we start going into making potions I'll take you there. Both of you, most likely, because Molly might have enough power coursing through her to imbue potions with magic. We can find out for sure then.” He nodded towards them. “I'll be back soon.” And then he was gone, leaving the two of them and John alone.

Molly looked over at Sherlock and then went to lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. She stayed quiet for a few moments as he picked up his cup again and began to drink the tea. It wasn't until he'd finished the cup and went to pour more that she spoke. “I almost wish I hadn't gone with you to Eynsford.”

He stilled and then set his cup down again. “I wish you hadn't either sometimes,” he said quietly. “Your life wouldn't be irrevocably different now if you'd stayed here in London. But there was some good that came of it, right?”

“Yes, there was,” she said. “But it's still so strange, being able to see ghosts and magic. I sometimes worry I'll never get used to it, or that it will only cause me trouble.”

“I didn't want to lose you,” he said, looking down.

“I know.” She was quiet for a moment. “I would rather be different than dead, even if I don't like being different now.”

“You'll always blame me for that, and you have every right to,” he said quietly. “I asked you to be there and it was my fault that they took so much of your life force before I could stop them.”

She was quiet again, and then she sat up. She moved close to Sherlock and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her chest against his back and resting her chin on his shoulder. “I could have easily left the day after Jamie tried to assault me. But I chose to stay. Neither of us anticipated what would happen next. And I just need time. Lessons will also help, if it does turn out I can do magic. The more I can understand about all of this the more comfortable I'll get.”

He reached up and grasped her forearms in his hands. “I blame myself, though. I'll probably always blame myself for putting you in danger in the first place.”

“I'll help you keep from dwelling on it too much, as long as you give me time to adjust,” she said, tightening her hold on him.

“All right,” he said with a nod, squeezing her arms for a moment. They stayed that way for a few minutes before he let her arms go and she stopped embracing him. He turned his body to face her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I am glad I was able to save you last night. I would rather have been the one hurt than you.”

“I was scared. Not just at home but when we got outside and we realized you'd gotten hurt. When Merlin implied you could die it was all I could do not to panic,” she said. “I don't want to lose you.”

“I don't want to lose you, either.” He leaned in towards her slightly and she met him halfway, kissing him softly. He moved his hands and reached over for her, pulling her closer to him and deepening the kiss. He would have kept kissing her except for the sound of a throat being cleared from in front of them. The two of them broke apart and looked over at John, who was stretching in his chair. “Yes?” Sherlock asked, slightly annoyed.

“Just wanted to remind you there was someone else in the room,” John said as he lowered his arms. “Someone who doesn't necessarily need to see the kissing go much further than that.”

Sherlock scowled slightly. “Just because we happened to share a bed doesn't mean we're going to shag. We aren't at that point in our relationship and won't be for some time, if ever.”

“Well, life or death situations have a way of changing things like that,” John said matter-of-factly as Molly chuckled slightly.

“This isn't amusing,” Sherlock said towards her.

“Oh, it is a little bit,” she replied before yawning.

“You should go back to sleep,” Sherlock said.

She shook her head. “I don't want to have another nightmare. I can stay awake for a half hour or so.” Then she nudged Sherlock slightly. “Finish the tea.”

“What happens in a half hour?” John asked, his brow furrowing slightly as Sherlock went back to the tea. 

“Merlin's going to come back with a potion for me,” Molly said. “To help lessen the nightmares.”

“The ones about what happened to you when you and Sherlock were in Eynsford?” he asked. Molly nodded. “Are they bad?”

“Every time I have one I feel more scared and just a bit weaker,” she said.

Sherlock looked over at her sharply as he stopped pouring tea into the cup. “You didn't say anything about feeling weaker,” he said.

“Well, until Merlin said something I didn't think much of it,” she said. “I'd guess it's from the residue from the spell.”

“How many nightmares have you had?” John asked.

“Two or three a night since we came back,” she said. “I don't always stay asleep for very long, though.”

“You should have told me,” Sherlock replied. “Who knows how they've affected you?”

“Sherlock, I didn't think it was that bad,” she said, shutting her eyes. “I thought it was just lack of sleep affecting me.”

He could tell she was starting to get annoyed but he was angry and scared. He wasn't angry at her, not at all; he was angry at the Blydens and he was angry at himself. But it was more that he was scared she'd lost more of her life force every time she had a dream. He didn't know what that could do to her, and he didn't want her any more adversely affected by what had happened than she already was. He stayed quiet for a full minute before he spoke. “I'm sorry. I'm just concerned.”

She opened her eyes. “If it had any adverse side effects hopefully Merlin can fix them,” she said. “But I really didn't realize things were bad, honest.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “It just seems there's so much more that you and I need to learn to deal with all of this.”

She moved closer to him and put a hand on his arm. “But we will. We'll learn everything we can, and we'll be okay.”

He glanced down at her hand. “You promise?” he asked when he looked back up at her.

“I do,” she said with a nod. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Now finish the tea before Merlin comes back.”

He gave her a very faint smile as he turned back to it. “Very well,” he said quietly. He poured more of the tea in the cup and then drank it. When he was finished he poured the last of the pot's contents into the cup. “This isn't the worst thing I've had to drink.”

“Yeah?” John asked. “What's it taste like?”

“Over-brewed herbal tea. It's slightly bitter, but not too bad. There's a floral taste in the background, and the barest hint of chicory, and I think there is orange zest as well.” He drank some of the tea. “Whatever it is it's worked wonders. I feel almost back to normal.”

“Good. Would have hated for what happened to be permanent,” John said. “Merlin said you could have lost your powers. With things coming out of the woodwork trying to kill you I think it's best if you keep them. It's safer for you and safer for us.”

“You don't have to stay, you know,” Sherlock said. “You can leave all of this, be somewhere safer.”

“Safest place around is here,” John said, leaning forward in his chair and setting his elbows on his thighs. “Merlin said the place is warded, and I'm pretty sure everyone in the entire bloody world knows you're my best mate so me being anywhere else leaves me a sitting duck. And besides, there's still going to be danger, and I may not be entirely immune to it, but Merlin said he'd work on that.”

“Does he think you might have magical powers?” Sherlock asked.

John shook his head. “No, but he said I could wear a powerful amulet. I wouldn't be surprised if he brings it back with him when he has the potion for Molly. This thing with the insects is quite serious and he doesn't want anyone not being protected.”

“I still think you're in danger,” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock, I was in danger the minute I saved your life from the cabbie. Now it's just a matter of being as safe and protected as I can be.” 

Sherlock was quiet after that. As much as he didn't like it, as much as he knew he was putting his friends in danger, John was right. The closer to them they were they safer everyone would be. He had fallen off the roof to save them from Moriarty's clutches, and he would do the same to save them from any other threats that came up. He decided he didn't want to talk anymore, and he finished his tea and then laid back down. After a moment Molly did the same, and he pulled her closer to him. He briefly thought that it was surprising she wanted to be close, but then he thought about what might have happened if she had been the one poisoned and he realized she felt much the same way John did about being safe. But with her there was the added part that she cared about him greatly in a way that John did not, and he knew that she stayed close in order to comfort him as much as seek comfort herself.

A few minutes later Merlin appeared in the room, a small mug in his hand. Molly sat up as he came closer. “Sherlock, I need her where you are,” he said.

Sherlock nodded and got off the bed, and Molly moved over to where he had been laying, swinging her feet off the edge of the bed and setting them on the ground. “What exactly are you going to do?” he asked.

“She'll go into a dreamless sleep when she's done drinking the potion,” he said as he handed Molly the mug. “I'll then be able to guide her through the nightmare and protect her as I try to lessen the metaphysical aspect of it's effects. When I'm done she may have the nightmare again but it won't be as often and it won't harm her anymore.”

“Is it going to hurt?” she asked.

“You won't feel a thing,” Merlin said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Now, drink it all and then lie down. I'll wake you up when I'm done.” She nodded and began to drink the potion, making a face. “I'm sorry it doesn't taste very good.”

“It's vile,” she said. 

“The most effective stuff usually is,” John said with a slight grin. “Worse than cod liver oil?”

“Oh, most definitely,” she said.

“Hold your nose as you drink it,” John suggested. “It'll help.”

Molly looked at him for a moment before plugging her nose and drinking some more. It took her a few minutes, but soon she was done. Her eyes were already beginning to close, and she fell backward onto the bed a moment later. “That was quicker than I'd thought,” Merlin said with a frown.

“Should we be concerned?” Sherlock asked.

“Possibly.” He looked over at Sherlock. “Help me get her on the bed more. And sit on the edge of the bed with her legs on your lap. I want you to be close to her.”

Sherlock helped Merlin move her position, and then he sat down at the end of the bed and did as Merlin had told him to. Merlin then moved to the top of the bed and put his hands on her head, his fingers near her forehead. He said something very quietly and Sherlock felt her legs begin to go warm. “Is she supposed to get warm?” he asked.

“No, she's not.” Merlin pulled his hands away. “How often has she had the nightmare?”

“Multiple times a night for over a week,” Sherlock said.

“I need you to be ready to do what you did in the underground cavern again,” he said. “That spell had a rather nasty side effect and I need to let her go completely through the dream to nullify the aftereffect. But it's going to do exactly what happened in the cavern. She's going to be drained.”

“Can I do it again?” Sherlock asked.

Merlin nodded. “Yes. Move her legs off your lap and be ready. I'll make sure she's stable before you do it.” Sherlock nodded, moving off the bed. This was a complication she did not need. Merlin moved back towards Molly again, leaning over her, and he put his fingers on her temples again, murmuring the spell. He began to pace as Merlin worked, and finally he pulled his hands away. “Now, Sherlock. Do it now.”

Merlin moved out of the way and Sherlock moved her slightly to sit on the bed. She was ice cold, but this time she was breathing, even if it wasn't very deeply. He repeated the spell he had come up with, pulling his own life force from himself, and then leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, pushing his life force back into her. This time he only stopped when she warmed up, and he pulled away to look at her. “Was that enough?” he asked, turning back to Merlin.

Merlin came over and put his fingers on her temples again. He seemed tense, but then he visibly relaxed. “She's fine. She just needs to rest for a while.” He put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. “Since I doubt you're going to want to leave her side until you're absolutely sure she's all right we can talk more in a few hours. It probably wouldn't hurt if you got more rest yourself.”

“I was asleep for nearly twenty hours,” he pointed out.

“And you just expended yourself in a draining spell,” Merlin countered. “So go back to sleep and I'll talk to you in the morning. I have preparations to make anyway before we can start training.”

“Fine,” Sherlock said. “But can I at least shed some of this clothing? I feel as though I'm drenched in sweat.”

“We probably should have attempted to change your clothes last night,” John said.

“You could have at least taken off my coat.”

“You were stiff as a board,” Merlin said. “I thought you'd much rather not have broken bones.”

“Well, when put that way, yes, I'd rather have slept in my clothes.” He got off the bed and went to where he kept his pyjamas. “I'll change in the loo.”

“We'll keep an eye on her,” John said with a nod as Sherlock got his clothes. He left his bedroom and then went and changed, and then he came back into the room. Merlin and John left shortly thereafter, and he turned off the light and climbed back into bed, taking the quilt and draping it over him and Molly. When that was done he pulled her close and shut his eyes, finding it quite easy to go back to sleep, and soon he was back into the dreamless sleep he usually had when he overtaxed himself.


	3. Chapter 3

He slept in a dreamless sleep, his body recovering from giving so much of his life force to Molly again. It was as though he was cocooned in black, and slowly the surroundings around him came into focus, the temperatures and sounds, the feelings and smells. As he started to wake up, he could hear the familiar sounds of his flat settling, he could smell some freshly brewed coffee, and he could feel Molly idly smoothing back his hair. At least he assumed it was Molly until he opened up his eyes and saw for sure that it was. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Not quite as late this time,” she said with a grin when he opened his eyes. “It's only three in the afternoon.”

“At this rate your sleep schedule will be shot to hell,” he mused.

“Oh, it already is,” she said with a wry smile. “I only just woke up about twenty minutes ago. I didn't mean to wake you up, though.”

“You didn't,” he said. “Though I was wondering for a moment why you were brushing my hair back, until I realized I was still quite warm.”

She nodded. “You should probably take a shower soon,” she said with a smile. “Between sleeping in your clothes and coat and then being warm now, you do smell a bit ripe.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That's rather blunt,” he said.

“Well, there's no use in hiding the truth,” she said with a soft laugh. She gave him a quick kiss. “I think you'll feel better, too, if you take a shower.”

“Thank you for your blunt honesty, I suppose,” he said, reaching up to touch her face. She tilted her head slightly so her cheek fit into his palm better. “Did you have another nightmare?”

She nodded. “But I didn't feel weak afterward, like I did before, and it segued into something else before I started to panic. I think whatever Merlin did worked.” She moved her head slightly to kiss his palm. “So don't worry. I won't leave you anytime soon.” He nodded, then moved his hand slightly to tangle his fingers in her hair before pulling her in for another kiss. It was a very soft and simple kiss, rather on the lazy side, and he relaxed into it until she pulled away and sat up. “I'm starved, and I'm sure you are too. I'll rummage around in your kitchen to see if there's something I can make.”

“I'd rather have takeaway,” he said.

She nodded as she stretched. “Anything in particular?”

“Chinese. One of everything off the menu, and double the order of potstickers and egg rolls.”

She blinked for a moment. “Everything?”

“I'm in the mood to eat a bit of everything,” he said. “Obviously I'll share with you, and John as well, if he's here, but if there's anything you want all to yourself order that as well.”

“All right,” she said with a smile. “”I'll get my card out of my handbag and make the call.”

“No, I'll pay for it. The closest restaurants have my card on file,” he said. “Whichever one sounds more appealing to you, order from them.”

“Okay. In the meantime, though, I'll at least set about making us some tea since I'm sure one of everything with a few things doubled will take some time to get to us,” she said as she got off the bed. Then she sniffed the air. “Or see if the coffee I smell really is fresh.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Molly,” he said.

She flashed him a wider grin. “You're very welcome.” She went to the bedroom door and opened it before stepping out into the hallway. Finally she shut the door behind her and he sat up. He was indeed very lucky to have her in his life, he realized. She had always taken good care of him, and he hoped one day he could return the favor, though he was sure she would say he already had when they were in Eynsford. His jaw set slightly as he had that thought. She never should have been put in the position she was put in, but he would have to accept it would probably happen more frequently the longer he was in her life, and with the immortality he knew it might be a much longer time that he was on this earth having to live with any regrets than it was for her. He knew there was a chance this all wouldn't work and she'd be gone long before he got the immortality reversed. He didn't really want to think of a life without Molly or John or the others he knew in it, but there was a distinct possibility that one day it might come to pass.

He sighed and sat up in the bed, stretching for a moment before pulling the covers off of him. Once he got them off he started to feel marginally cooler. He tilted his head to the side slightly and sniffed, and then he realized that Molly was right. He was definitely in need of a shower. He put his feet on the floor and then got out of bed, and after a moment he realized he wasn't alone so he stopped moving. “At least you gave me a few moments alone with her once we woke up,” he said, pausing before he looked over his shoulder.

Merlin chuckled. “I can sense when you're alone, and that's usually when I make my presence known,” he said. “I don't really want to walk in on something that should be private anyway.”

“I thank you for that,” he said. “Have you made progress on the situation?”

Merlin shook his head. “Well, most of the progress will be teaching you the spell you need to know. But as to figuring out the how and why that Molly was targeted, I am a little further along in that. One of her neighbors saw the woman controlling the bugs around her home, just touching various parts of the home and then moving to another part. That happened around noon the day Molly said she saw the woman in her bedroom.”

“And no one thought to tell Molly when she got home?” Sherlock asked incredulously.

“Apparently not,” Merlin said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “It could be that they forgot it again until my questions prompted them. I did use a bit of a push to get them to remember what I needed them to remember.”

“Mind manipulation magic is a possibility as well, then,” Sherlock said.

“Yes,” Merlin said. He was quiet for a moment. “Sherlock, have you considered that it might be best if Molly stays here after this is taken care of?”

“I doubt she'll agree,” Sherlock said, shaking his head. “We only both acknowledged that we wanted to start a relationship about a week ago. Her giving up her home to stay here is asking a bit much and comes off as moving much too fast. I've have virtually no relationship experience and even I know that.”

“Well, perhaps until I can lay down wards?” he asked.

“How long did it take you to do it here?” Sherlock asked, moving towards the door.

“Two months to do the heavy set wards. It will take longer for her home since she has a yard to protect as well. I'm assuming she would want the heavy set wards so this will never happen again.”

“She may agree to stay here for that duration,” he said. “I'm assuming the property needs to be vacated?”

“No, but it helps speed the process up for most of it. There's parts I can do while she's there, though, so she may only need to be gone for a month and a half.”

“I'll ask,” he said. He got over to Merlin and looked his ancestor up and down. “In all the centuries you've been alive, have you ever seen the other side make such a play to get to one of your descendents?”

Merlin shook his head slowly. “Going directly after a descendent, once or twice. But not when it came to using other people. It's making me wonder if we're misjudging how powerful Molly might turn out to be. I mean, for all we know, she may have survived being poisoned by the bugs and just lost the magical abilities she gained.”

“Are there other people like you in the world?” Sherlock asked. “People with magical talent who may have had descendents?”

“You're thinking Molly might be a descendent of someone else?” Merlin mused, tilting his head slightly. “And you think what you had to do at the manor may have jumpstarted a process similar to what happened to you.”

“It could be a distinct possibility,” Sherlock said with a nod. “It would be worth looking into thoroughly.”

“And that is something I can do better than you,” he said. “Spend today resting and regaining your strength. We'll start training you for the spell tomorrow. Hopefully by then I'll know a bit more about Molly's family lineage.” Sherlock nodded, then went to the door for his dressing gown. Merlin reached over for his shoulder before he left the room. “Don't say anything to her until you know something for sure. Just in case your theory is off base.”

“Or if it's news she really wouldn't want to hear,” Sherlock said.

Merlin nodded. “That as well.”

“All right,” Sherlock said.

Merlin leaned forward slightly, then wrinkled his nose. “You are in definite need of a shower.”

“It sounded better when Molly told me,” he replied with a sigh.

“Most things do when they're told to you by someone who loves you,” Merlin said with a chuckle. “Go shower and eat. John's out there, so you and Molly won't have much privacy until later.”

“Not that we need it,” he said. “We aren't at that stage of our relationship and if we get to that stage I imagine it will be a time off.”

“Oh, I'm willing to lay odds you'll get to that stage of your relationship at some point, and probably sooner than you expect,” Merlin said, smirking slightly. “I've seen the way she looks at you. But I do know she'll wait for a while to let you get more comfortable with the idea. How long, however...that I'm not so sure about.”

Sherlock shook his head and then opened his bedroom door as he felt Merlin's presence recede from the room. He made his way to the loo and took the hottest shower he could stand. While the tea had helped ease his muscles they'd still felt rather sore, and so the hot water had been needed to help make it easier to massage out knots and kinks. He was not used to sleeping next to someone yet, though he didn't mind it too much, and he knew eventually when he was not to the point of exhaustion he would be able to get into a more comfortable position as he slept. He was under the water for nearly a half hour when he finally got out. There was a full days growth of beard on his face to take care of as well, and he shaved it off before leaving the loo to go back to his room. Even though he was not going to practice magic today he changed into the T-shirt and soft denim trousers combination he wore when he did because it was more comfortable than a dress shirt and slacks. After a moment he decided not to bother with socks and shoes and so he padded out barefoot to the kitchen.

John looked up from the table. “You look entirely refreshed now,” he said before picking up his mug and taking a sip of it.

“It's a miracle what sleep and a hot shower will do,” Sherlock said, heading towards the coffeemaker. “How long will it take the food to arrive?”

“Another forty-five minutes, probably,” Molly said. She was in the kitchen, preparing a cup of coffee. Sherlock idly wondered if it was her first or her second at this point. But instead of taking a sip she handed it to him with a smile. “When I heard the bedroom door shut I figured it wouldn't be long until you joined us. It's relatively fresh.”

“Thank you,” he said, giving her a small smile. She smiled back even more widely and then picked up a mug that had been nearby. She poured the last of the coffee into the mug and then began preparing her own cup before making more coffee. “Have you eaten anything?”

“I made some toast,” she said. “But I can wait for the food I ordered to eat something else.”

“You're really going to eat everything?” John asked.

“Between the poison from the bug and transferring my life force to Molly, I've gotten more of an appetite than I usually have,” he said, eyeing the kitchen. Forty-five minutes was going to be too long, but as if Molly could read his mind she moved to the breadbox and pulled out some bread. “Thank you, Molly.”

“You're quite welcome,” she said. “I just thought you'd be as hungry as I was, if not hungrier.”

He eyed her slightly. “Is it logical assumptions leading you to think this, or something else?” he asked.

“Maybe a bit of something else?” she said, tilting her head slightly as she thought. “I felt it before, for the last few days, this vague feeling of how you felt, but it's stronger now.”

“That connection between the two of you must have gotten stronger,” John said. “I don't know if I should say congratulations or I'm sorry.”

Molly glared at him. “It'll take some getting used to, but I'll manage,” she said, waving her hand. “It's not like I can tell what you're thinking or anything. It's still vague.”

Sherlock said nothing, instead focusing on her. He could feel that she was embarrassed by John's comment, even though on the surface she merely looked annoyed. He could also tell she was still somewhat weak, even though she was trying to hide it. He moved over to her and took the bread. “I can make the toast. You should sit down.”

“You can tell I still don't feel one hundred percent well, can't you?” she asked, giving him a small smile. He nodded. “I think this is going to take some getting used to, for both of us.”

“Yes, it is,” he said. She picked her coffee back up and went back to the table, sitting down. “You should soak in the bath when there's more hot water. I think it would help.”

“After I eat,” she said. “I'm quite famished so I ordered triple the order of egg rolls and pot stickers and double the beef and broccoli.”

“Not to mention the egg foo young for me,” John said. “I think the person taking the order was quite shocked and wasn't sure it would all fit in one vehicle to bring to us.”

“It's better than us attempting to go to a restaurant and eating there,” Sherlock said as he came to the table.

“Unless it's an all you can eat buffet, perhaps,” Molly said with a grin before having some of her coffee. “So when is Merlin going to come back?”

“How did you know he was here?” Sherlock asked, surprised.

“I could sense him,” she said. “I knew he was here and then he left.”

Sherlock nodded. “He'll come back tomorrow. Tonight I am to relax and finish recuperating. Tomorrow I'll learn the spell and we'll see what else he's managed to pick up about what we're up against.”

“And just what are we up against?” John asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Something that has the potential to get to be quite a big hassle before it's taken care of,” Sherlock said before taking a sip of his coffee. He would go into the details later, once he knew more of them himself, but for now he wanted the coffee and the food and he wanted to have some peace and quiet before he began to think about what was ahead of him.


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin arrived fairly early the next morning. Sherlock was lying in bed, holding Molly close as she slept, when he felt his presence in the flat. Carefully he disentangled himself from her and went to the back of his door to get his dressing gown, slipping it on quietly. If there was any physical work he needed to do he could do it just as well in his pyjamas as he could his denim trousers and a shirt until Molly woke up on her own. He opened his door and made his way out to the sitting doom, seeing Merlin sitting in John's chair, garbed in his usual khaki trench coat and black trousers with white shirt. “I got mistaken for an old version of John Constantine today,” Merlin said.

“Who?” Sherlock asked, going to his own chair to sit down.

“Comic book character. Does magic, fights demons. Decent bloke, I suppose. The way he's written people can assume he might actually be real, and someone thought I might be him, even if he is a blonde and I’m not.” He paused. “It could be a cheeky alias to give out sometimes,” he added thoughtfully.

“Can you change your appearance?” Sherlock asked. “I mean, more than temporarily.”

“Like magical plastic surgery?” Merlin suggested, and Sherlock nodded. “Yes, there are ways. Some are temporary, rather like a Polyjuice Potion in Harry Potter, and others are more permanent. The permanent ones are usually used by people with dark motives, though. You're less likely to get people to teach you the spells. Fortunately, I know them, and if we can't get your immortality problem taken care of I'll teach it to you.” Merlin tilted his head as he looked at Sherlock. “Why the interest?”

“Curiosity, mostly.” He leaned back in the chair. “Do we want to start the spell lessons now?”

“For changing your appearance?” Merlin asked.

“No. For the fire to kill the bugs,” Sherlock said, making an attempt to hide his annoyance.

“I sometimes forget how fast your mind jumps from topic to topic,” Merlin said with a slight smile, shaking his head. “Go make some coffee first, and then we'll start.”

“I make coffee and I'll wake up everyone else,” Sherlock said. “I'm alert enough as it is.”

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked.

“Would you like me to start reciting the periodic table of elements for you? Backwards, perhaps?” Sherlock asked, beginning to glare. 

Merlin studied him and then nodded. “Alert and grumpy, I see. Very well, then. How is your Latin?”

“Nearly impeccable, though perhaps a tad rusty.”

“That will be a tremendous help,” Merlin said, visibly relaxing. “Certain spells are best done in the old languages, and this spell is best done in Latin. If you know Latin you'll master pronunciation and cadence in no time.” 

Sherlock leaned forward. “All right. What is the spell?”

“The first part is as follows: _Sine flamma ignis purgo. Ad exuendum loco isto insectorum est plena male. Ad istum mundum et purum. To set iniuriam quae sunt ad ius_.”

“ _Sine flamma ignis purgo. Ad exuendum loco isto insectorum est plena male. Ad istum mundum et purum. To set iniuriam quae sunt ad ius_ ,” Sherlock said, matching the cadence that Merlin set. “'The cleanse of fire without the flame. To rid this place of the insects full of ill. To make this place clean and pure. To set things that are wrong back to right.'”

Merlin nodded approvingly. “Your translation skills are quite superb.”

“Well, Latin was an easy language to learn,” Sherlock said with a slight shrug.

Merlin chuckled. “I'm glad. It will make teaching you other dead languages easier.” He leaned forward in his seat more. “Now, that part is repeated as you walk around the home. While you're saying that, you imagine a fire inhabiting the spaces in the walls, and underneath the building. Anywhere you can feel the insects, you imagine a blue fire that's cold as ice trapping them in icy flame.”

“Not freezing them to death, though,” Sherlock said.

“No,” Merlin said as he shook his head. “If we were to touch the walls they would feel as cold as ice. In fact, if it's done right the temperature is going to drop significantly in Molly's home while we're casting the spell. It will feel as though we're standing inside an igloo.”

“We have to go inside?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“There's a special protection amulet we can wear that will protect us from the insects,” he said. “It will give us a protective bubble of sorts that still allows us to perform magic while wearing them. They're pretty handy to have around.”

“I see,” Sherlock murmured.

“There's more to the spell, Sherlock,” Merlin said. “Once we've been through the house and we've trapped the insects in the home in the frozen fire, then we have to say the last verse. This is the tricky part. You have to visualize the flames burning them, but the temperature not rising. You have to will the fire not to become real fire. And that's when the spirit who controls the bugs is going to do everything she can to stop you.”

“What is the spell?” Sherlock asked.

“ _Egredere, egredere, frigus ignem! Egredere, egredere, ACAPNOS in mortem! Egredere egredere pato vel sentire! Egredere egredere amplius accipere ventus_!” Merlin said, his voice rising in volume as he spoke.

Sherlock let his ears perk slightly to see if he could hear John moving about his room. He had the feeling he would know exactly when Molly woke up. Neither of them seemed to be awake, and so he turned his attention back to Merlin. “ _Egredere, egredere, frigus ignem! Egredere, egredere, ACAPNOS in mortem! Egredere egredere pato vel sentire! Egredere egredere amplius accipere ventus_!” he said, matching Merlin's tone and cadence, though not quite as loudly.

Merlin wore an approving look on his face. “I don't even know why I worried,” he said, leaning back into the chair. “Just how many languages do you know?”

Sherlock shut his eyes for a moment as he thought. “Seven,” he said finally. “I'm only fluent in six of them, though. I'm having issues with Mandarin.”

“Can you read them as well?” Sherlock nodded. “I may have you help me translate texts, then. I know almost every language in the world, but if you pick them up easily I can teach you and you can help.”

“It would be nice to know more languages than Mycroft,” Sherlock said. Then he paused as a thought struck him. “He's a descendent of yours as well, correct?”

Merlin nodded. “Through your father's side, yes. Your other brother as well.”

“Then why can I do magic and they can't?” Sherlock asked.

“The curse, mostly. Mycroft shows an aptitude for absorbing knowledge that some of my descendents have, the same aptitude you have, but that's all. If I knew where your other brother was I'd see if he was more inclined to be like you but he's hidden himself well. For all I know that could be a sign he's magically inclined, come to think of it. But you were cursed, and then when you died it all came to the surface.”

“Does it happen that way for your descendents often?” Sherlock asked.

“No, not usually. Most of them show their powers from childhood, or at least from puberty. To be honest, I thought you were going to be another one who didn't exhibit any powers at all. And yet you are one of my more powerful descendents.” Sherlock nodded before he sensed Molly waking up. He turned his attention towards his bedroom, and Merlin did too. “It's stronger, isn't it?”

“The bond between Molly and I?” Sherlock asked, getting out of his seat. Merlin nodded. “Yes, it is. I can't read her thoughts, but I can get a clear sense of what she's feeling, physically and emotionally.”

“How is she feeling right now?” Merlin asked curiously.

“She panicked for a moment and then relaxed,” he said. “Now she just seems to be on the verge of awake and asleep, and...” He trailed off as he realized she probably didn't want him telling Merlin everything. Not that it was embarrassing, but every woman deserved a few secrets.

“Make her some coffee and invite her to join us if she wants,” Merlin said. “Somehow I think you've got the spell memorized already.”

Sherlock tapped the side of his head. “Filed away in my mind palace.”

Merlin gave him a grin. “I thought so. If she'd like, we can see what types of things she can do while you practice your visualization skills for the spell.”

Sherlock nodded. “I'll see what she'd like to do,” he said before heading into the kitchen to begin to make coffee. It seemed as though the spell was going to be easy enough, though he was not relishing another confrontation with the spirit controlling the bugs. Hopefully the second encounter would go better than the first.


	5. Chapter 5

He hated having to spend the time waiting to take care of the problem. There was a difference in waiting for a well laid trap to be sprung and waiting to put a plan into place. Not much of a difference, admittedly, but there was some. Mostly it was in the levels of irritation that came off of him towards the few people he was close to. He knew he was more easily irritated now than he was other times when he had been forced to wait to do something, but those at Baker Street seemed to be taking it in stride.

It would have been easier if Merlin had spent more time with him. Apparently Sherlock was an apt enough pupil because after half a day's instruction he was told to practice his visualization skills on his own, and on day two Merlin said he was confident Sherlock wouldn't burn Molly's house to the ground. The build-up that it was going to be a complicated process had gotten him excited at the prospect of learning something advanced, and the let down grated on his nerves just as much as the delay until the moon was in the right phase was grating on them.

At the moment Sherlock was pacing in the sitting room as Merlin was going over some basic spell casting with Molly. She definitely seemed to have an increased ability to do the spell work from when Merlin had tested her after the incident at the manor house. He hadn't really been too surprised by it, but what _had_ been surprising was that it seemed to increase gradually day by day. Not remarkably high increases, but enough that it was noticeable. He was sure Merlin had seen it too, and he resolved that when they got a private moment he would ask how the research into her family history was going. An excited squeal from Molly caused him to stop and turn sharply to the kitchen table, where Merlin and Molly were seated. She caught him looking and waved him over. “Sherlock, look!” she said excitedly.

He made his way over to the table. Being able to truly levitate an object was actually quite hard, he'd found, especially as the objects got heavier. He could currently lift his chair in the sitting room thirty-eight centimeters off the ground for a full five minutes, which he was told was impressive but he knew he could do better. He looked at the stack of heavy tomes that were approximately nine centimeters above the table at the moment and he was impressed. He could only levitate one object at a time; Molly was currently doing three. “I am very impressed,” he said.

“She's getting the basics very quickly, so I thought we'd try something a bit more impressive,” Merlin said with a grin. “It's going to be harder to do multiple objects at once when they're larger, but I think she can show you a thing or two with this, Sherlock.”

“I will be happy to learn from her,” he said. And it was true; if she had a technique that helped he wanted to know it, too, and adapt it for his own use. After a moment he watched her murmur the spell to reverse the process, and the books dropped with a thud. She jumped slightly at the sound. “And perhaps I can help with that part.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him with a smile. “I honestly thought I'd only be able to see ghosts and maybe see the threads of magic you can manipulate, but I never imagined I would actually be able to _do_ magic. Now I see why you were so inquisitive about finding out everything you could do, Sherlock.”

“Just remember that you have limitations that I don't,” he said, sitting in the seat next to her. “I can't be hurt or killed. I don't want anything to happen to you that you can't recover from.”

She nodded. “I know. I'll be careful, I promise. I won't do what you did and try things out on my own with no supervision.”

“Why don't you go see about making something to eat?” Merlin suggested. “You've been doing this for hours now and I don't think I've seen you eat anything since breakfast.”

She nodded. “I am a bit peckish, come to think of it.” She stood up and looked down at Sherlock. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded. “If you feel like making a full meal I'll have some of it. And John will be back in roughly a hour as well, provided he doesn't have a date.”

Molly chuckled. “Women do seem to flock towards him these days,” she said.

“The notoriety of being my dedicated blogger seems to be a good thing as opposed to the source of ridicule it was when Moriarty was doing his character assassination,” Sherlock said. “And I'm sure people are always curious about the unusual cases.”

“There may actually be people interested in John despite of his acquaintance with you, you know,” Merlin said.

“Yes, but those people are boring,” Sherlock said.

Molly laughed this time, and then leaned over and kissed Sherlock softly. “Just because you are important the world does not revolve around you, Sherlock,” she said when she pulled away.

“Does your world?” he asked.

“Only partly. The best part does, though,” she said with a smile before heading into the kitchen.

Merlin's eyes followed her. “Whatever you do, don't muck up your relationship with her,” he said before turning back to Sherlock, smile on his face and amusement in his eyes. “She's quite good for you.”

“I'm well aware of that,” Sherlock said with a small grin. After a moment he motioned with a nod towards the sitting room, and the two men made their way out there. Sherlock sat in his chair and Merlin sat in the one across from him. “How is the research into Molly's ancestry going?” he asked quietly, the amusement in his voice diminished.

“I've hit a block, of sorts. I've found an ancestor that seems to not have any parents to speak of. I've run into this other times I've done research, and it's usually done on purpose to protect someone in the family tree. Whether it's further back or someone closer to this time I don't know yet.” Merlin leaned forward slightly. “The blocks like this are magical in nature. This puts some credence in your theory that Molly is a descendent of someone with magical powers.”

“Somebody quite powerful, if they made an effort to mask themselves,” Sherlock said.

“Or are making,” Merlin said. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that. “You and I are not the only immortal people on the face of this Earth. There are others, in other realms. Some are human, some are not but they dwell among humans, or come to them in certain ways. And the ones who walk among humans will sometimes breed with humans. It's how people like me come to be.”

Sherlock studied him. “Your father was an incubus,” he said. “Or at least that's what the stories say.”

“Well, that part is true,” he said. “There is a lot of truth in the legends, but also a fair bit of embellishment and outright lies.”

“One day I think I'd like to hear the entire truth,” he said.

“One day, perhaps,” Merlin said. Sherlock waited for him to say more but he remained silent, and so Sherlock waited to see where the conversation moved next. When Merlin spoke again he looked over at Sherlock. “How does your mind palace work?”

Sherlock blinked slightly. He hadn't expected that to be the topic of conversation, to be honest. “It's similar to an actual palace. There are hundreds of rooms, multiple floors, and stairs to get to them. I travel to where I need to go to get the information I store in each room. Information I don't think is pertinent at the time I learn it is either deleted entirely or stored in the basement to be sorted later.”

“What does the room where you keep the knowledge I teach you look like?” he asked.

Sherlock shut his eyes and in his mind he went to the room. “It's a high ceilinged room, with a dome roof. There are windows to let in natural light, but they're covered most of the time so it's dark. It's lit by a chandelier that hangs down. It's a very large room, and there are bookshelves covering all the walls. Two levels worth. Right now most of the shelves are bare, waiting for books.”

“What books do you need?” Merlin asked.

“Every spell you teach me gets written in a book according to the type of spell it is,” Sherlock said. “Each book is then put onto a shelf in order of type of spell, then degree of difficulty, and finally alphabetical order. I suppose when I start learning about potions they will be put in their own books. There are also workbenches in the room, though they're unused for the moment. I imagine they'll be used when I start to do potions. And there is an area for supplies you have shown me, and a board covered in diagrams of importance.”

Sherlock opened his eyes at that point and saw Merlin was looking at him with an expression on his face as if he was impressed. “I think that this mind palace of yours will serve you well when we start learning the more complicated aspects of things,” he said. “If you can store everything you learn to pull back at a moment's notice then you'll be able to do well if put in another life or death situation.”

“It isn't always at a moment's notice,” Sherlock said. “Sometimes it takes time. Though I have a superior brain, even I occasionally hit limitations.”

Merlin tilted his head slightly. “There may be ways around them, if you're interested.”

“I could be,” Sherlock said, leaning forward in his seat. “Tell me more.” And with that Merlin went into visualization processes to expand his mind and spells to augment the speed with which he could sort through his rooms, and Sherlock realized there was more to this than just a casual conversation. This was Merlin's way of preparing him for anything that might happen when they went up against the spirit causing the trouble in Molly's home. If he needed to have his wits about him and be ready to pull up a spell or think rapidly in a different language then he was going to practice these things as much as possible until they could actually put the plan into motion. The better prepared he was the more confident he would feel that they could get things back to normal for Molly again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations are at the bottom!

Finally, the evening to take care of the insects in Molly's home came around. Sherlock spent the entire day feeling as though he was on tenterhooks, and it didn't help that Merlin was nowhere to be found until just before sunset. He arrived at Baker Street with two talismans. They were amber, with an insect trapped inside, and surrounded by a flattened gold disc with strange markings carved on it. He gave one to Sherlock and put the other one around his own neck, slipping it under his shirt. Sherlock did the same after a moment, and he wasn't surprised that the amber felt warm against his skin.

“Promise you'll be careful,” Molly said, standing in front of Sherlock with her hands framing his face. 

He reached up and put his hands over hers as he nodded slightly. “I will. I promise,” he said. He leaned in and kissed her softly, a kiss he had meant to be brief but she wouldn't let end. She must have been quite worried that there would be a repeat of the events that started all this, and while he trusted Merlin and the power he felt in the amulet he didn't blame her one bit. Eventually she pulled away and he took a step back before turning and moving towards Merlin. He didn't want to give her another glance because he didn't want to see her begin to worry, and so when he got to Merlin he clapped his hand on Merlin's shoulder and did the transportation spell, having them land outside Molly's home.

“I'm surprised we didn't stay longer,” Merlin said as they made their way out of the alley. Since they were both immune to the glamour Sherlock had put over the home he was sure that Merlin could hear the intense buzzing just as clearly as he could.

“I don't like seeing her worry,” Sherlock said. 

“Ah,” Merlin said with a nod. He was walking behind Sherlock and walked right into him when Sherlock stopped suddenly. “Sherlock?”

“Before we go into the home, what if we work from the outside first?” Sherlock asked.

“It will alert the spirit that we're here,” Merlin said.

“So will transporting ourselves into the sitting room,” Sherlock pointed out. “Because you said we need to be touching the house and visualizing the bugs being trapped in icy flame. Do we need to actually touch every part of the walls to do it?”

“No,” Merlin said slowly. “What do you want to do?”

“I know the yard and the lower level of her home like the back of my hand,” he said. “I can take care of that before we go inside and take care of the upper level. If one of us needs to save our strength for this I think Molly would prefer it were you.”

Merlin considered it, and then nodded. “Very well. We'll try it your way.” 

Sherlock started moving again. He had put the glamour and containment spell over her entire property, and after a moment he made his way to the home, knowing to her neighbours eyes he and Merlin would have simply disappeared. He put his hand on the outside and could feel the roiling evil of the insects that were inside. He cleared his mind palace out completely and used Merlin's tricks to create a secondary building in his mind. He visualized Molly's home, the exact shape of it, and as much of the layout as he could. After a moment he felt Merlin put a hand on his shoulder and a gentle nudge at the construct he was building in his mind. This was excellent; Merlin was filling in the gaps. They might have the bugs in the walls under control before they even stepped foot in the home. Slowly the house was built, with painstaking detail paid to each room as were drawn upon by his or Merlin's memory of the room.

Dimly he could hear the sounds of the angry buzzing receding as he began to imagine the spaces between the walls being filled with an icy blue flame and the bugs being caught in it. He knew that left the bugs flying around inside the home, but the talismans would protect the two of them from those insects. Once the construct of the home in his head was filled with the icy blue flame he decided to try something. “Sherlock, what are you doing?” Merlin asked slowly.

“Trying to make it less dangerous when we enter the home,” he said. He was supposedly good at using magic without spells, and so he used some of it to nudge the temperature inside the home lower and lower, moving slowly. He could already feel the exterior of the home feel icy cold beneath his fingertips, but he wanted the inside of the home to be freezing cold when they stepped foot inside. He wanted the insects to be sluggish if they were moving at all. Soon the noise level dropped even further until it was nearly silent.

“That was actually a brilliant idea,” Merlin said, obviously impressed.

“I've been known to have them from time to time,” Sherlock said, pulling his hand away from the home. This time Merlin did the transportation spell and seconds later they were in Molly's kitchen. The room was an absolute disaster; everything was destroyed and covered in slime and molted skin and cocoons. They were also nearly knee deep in immobile insects. “She is not going to be pleased,” he remarked.

“I can actually fix this,” Merlin said. “Here comes the hard part, Sherlock. We aren't going to be able to get rid of the insects you've neutralized in one fell swoop, but we can do it room by room. I'll transport to a different room and we'll work together. Repeat the first part of the spell with the insects on the floor, then put a hand on the wall, visualize, and take them all out. Then move onto another room.”

“All the insects in the walls or just the walls of that room?” Sherlock asked.

“All of them, if you can do it,” Merlin said. “I'll go to the rooms upstairs. If you see the spirit, just keep concentrating on visualizing them in the icy blue flames and ignore whatever it is she throws at you. The talisman will protect you.”

Sherlock nodded and after a moment Merlin was gone. He looked around the room and took it in, then pushed his way through to the nearest wall and touched it. He shut his eyes and input the new data of the insects in this room into his mind construct, then visualized them with the icy flames surrounding them. “ _Egredere, egredere, frigus ignem_!” he said loudly. “ _Egredere, egredere, ACAPNOS in mortem! Egredere egredere pato vel sentire! Egredere egredere amplius accipere ventus_!”

An ear-splitting screech rendered the air and he was tempted to take his hand off the wall to cover his ears but he did his best not to let the sound affect his concentration. Soon it died down and he opened his eyes. The insects were gone, with nothing but piles of ash in their place. He began to make his way to the sitting room, hearing another one of the shrieks above him, when he saw the spirit barring his path. “Sed non me vincere viribus,” she said. Her voice sounding hollow and she clicked on certain words and buzzed on others. It would have been very creepy sounding under other circumstances, or if Sherlock was a different man. In all honesty, however, he was annoyed. He absolutely detested it when people underestimated him.

“In hac parte, vobis fefellit,” he said in response with a scowl on his face, watching as a bug crawled out of her open mouth. There was another shriek from the floor above him; Merlin was moving quickly. He should be doing the same.

She got a brief look of surprise on her face, and then there was a bit of a smirk on her lips. “Vir cum fiducia. Miserum est abusivis.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes in response. Really, this was getting tiresome. “Nescitis plane nescio vos unde agitur.” He made his way towards her. She held up a hand and a bug began to emerge from her palm, but when he got close enough he pushed her arm out of the way. She hissed, as though his touch had physically hurt her, and she quickly moved to the side. He made his way into the hallway just outside the sitting room and took in the scene before he touched the wall. He shut his eyes, placing the immobile insects inside his mental construct of Molly's home and imagining them in the fire. “ _Egredere, egredere, frigus ignem_!” he said loudly. “ _Egredere, egredere, ACAPNOS in mortem_!” Suddenly he was unable to speak, as he mouthed the words and no sound came out. After a moment he had an idea, and he projected his thoughts as an audio sound, thinking the last of the spell. “Egredere egredere pato vel sentire! Egredere egredere amplius accipere ventus!”

“Stop!” the spirit screeched as another shriek, this one far louder than the other ones he had heard, was heard from the sitting room. He risked opening his eyes and saw she was doubled over.

“Not until every last insect is gone from this home,” he said through gritted teeth, not letting go of the mental image until the screeching stopped. When it was quiet he turned to the spirit. “I will teach you and your master what happens when you go after the people I care for.”

The spirit straightened, and then looked at Sherlock with a curious gaze as another shrill sound came from upstairs. “I have already seen what you can do to my minions,” the spirit said, though the voice did not sound the same. The clicks and hiss were still there, but the voice was no longer hollow. This voice was full of joviality, as though the speaker was amused with the conversation. “Sherlock Holmes, the man who will put the great Merlin to shame.” The spirit walked over to Sherlock. “Perhaps.”

Sherlock crossed his arms. So. He was finally getting to talk to the person behind all of this. “I suppose you regret cursing me now?”

“Maybe a little bit,” the spirit said. “Moriarty could only see a limited view of the future, and my agent who helped him was just as shortsighted. If I'd been consulted as I should have been, it never would have happened. I suppose I have to live with the mistake now, just like you do.” The spirit walked up to him and let her hand hover over Sherlock's arm. Then she touched it, and the reaction this time was different, in that it didn't seem to hurt her. Sherlock looked up and raised an eyebrow. The spirit laughed, and it was a disturbing sound. “So long as I've taken over the spirit, the talisman does nothing. Why, I could even drain your power and you couldn't stop me.”

The spirit gripped his arm tightly and Sherlock began to feel an ebb in his level of magical power. It was a peculiar feeling, since it was something he had gotten used to. The spirit wasn't leeching much, but enough that it was noticeable. “That's only if you touch me, though,” Sherlock said through gritted teeth, taking his other hand and grabbing the spirit's hand. He grasped it tightly, and managed to pry it off of his arm. And then for future measure he twisted it at an odd angle, breaking the spirit's wrist.

“Oh, you do think on your feet!” the spirit said, taking a step back. There was another shriek heard from upstairs and if Sherlock counted right that should have been the last room. He hoped Merlin would come downstairs to see what the hell was going on with him sooner rather than later. The spirit cradled her wrist. “I think it will be quite interesting to play with you, Sherlock.”

“I don't like to play games,” he said, glaring.

“But you'll find mine to be much more interesting than Moriarty's. And, I might add, the stakes will be _much_ higher.” He felt Merlin's presence behind him at the same time the gaze of the spirit narrowed. “Pity our conversation has to end now, Sherlock. It was very interesting.”

“Oh, but I can go on for hours while Merlin finishes ridding the home of the spirit's presence,” he said.

“I think not,” the spirit said. Then it turned to Merlin. “Mae'r gorffennol yn dod yn ôl. Mae gan ddisgyblion rhannau hir pan maent yn dewis. Cadwch hynny mewn cof.”

Sherlock looked from the spirit to Merlin in confusion. This was a language he didn't know, but apparently Merlin did as he took a step forward. “Pwy disgyblion? Pwy gorffennol?” he asked, advancing on the spirit. But the look that had been on the spirit's face slid away and the other look, the cold, dead and disinterested one, was back as the woman began to swell. “Damn.”

“What?”

“I don't know what to do, but if she explodes it will be a whole new infestation and the building may not contain it,” Merlin said.

Sherlock considered the situation quickly. Old languages worked well for spells, Latin worked best for this spirit, he was fluent in Latin and he had a skill for making up spells on the fly. He thought quickly on how to best frame what he wanted to have happen in Latin, and then he held a hand up in front of him towards the spirit. “ _Tenetur ad hoc quod forma physica, et consumentur a frigore illa flamma, pulchrumque mori succurrit in gelido dolore ignis,_ ” he said, shutting his eyes and imagining the now double sized spirit being consumed by the icy flames. He sent a huge push of magic towards the spirit, and the shriek that sounded this time was so loud he was sure it would have been heard several blocks over if it hadn't been for the containment spell on Molly's home, but inside the home it sounded like the roar of a jet engine. There was an intense light he could sense even with his eyes closed and then suddenly the shrieking was over and the light was gone. He opened his eyes and saw the charred remains of a woman that crumbled to a pile of ash seconds later.

“You actually destroyed the spirit with a spell,” Merlin said, his eyes wide as he looked at Sherlock. “That's supposed to be impossible.”

“I just thought using the fire was the most logical choice,” he said quietly.

“We'll have to spread that spell around, see if it's of any use to anyone else,” Merlin said approvingly. “Let's take care of the rest of the insects before I show you the spell to set Molly's house to rights.”

“How are you going to do that?” Sherlock asked.

“By coaxing the things that got destroyed to remember their previous state. It's a rather handy spell, and quite easy. It will take some time to do it for everything in the home, though.” He looked around. “There's something I need to do.”

“Very well,” Sherlock said with a nod. He began to make his way towards the entryway while Merlin began to head towards the door to the basement. At least the problem was taken care of, he thought to himself. Now it was just a matter of repairing the damage as best he could before Molly had to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All translations courtesy of Google Translate.
> 
> **Latin:**
> 
> _Sed non me vincere viribus._ **-** You do not have enough power to defeat me.  
>  _In hac parte, vobis fefellit._ **-** In that regard, you are sadly mistaken.  
>  _Vir cum fiducia. Miserum est abusivis._ **-** A man with confidence. Pity it is unwarranted.  
>  _Nescitis plane nescio vos unde agitur._ **-** You obviously do not know who you are dealing with.  
>  _Tenetur ad hoc quod forma physica, et consumentur a frigore illa flamma, pulchrumque mori succurrit in gelido dolore ignis._ **-** Be bound to this physical form, and let that form be consumed by cold flame, to die in a painful death by icy fire.
> 
> **Welsh:**
> 
> _Mae'r gorffennol yn dod yn ôl. Mae gan ddisgyblion rhannau hir pan maent yn dewis. Cadwch hynny mewn cof._ **-** The past is coming back. Pupils have long reaches when they choose to. Keep that in mind.  
>  _Pwy disgyblion? Pwy gorffennol?_ **-** Whose pupil? Whose past?


	7. Chapter 7

Molly had gone to sleep long before Sherlock had come home but Sherlock had been restless and unable to sleep. He'd been sitting by the hearth, watching the fire and hoping the warmth would seep into his bones. It had died down to embers now, but there was still warmth radiating from it. He'd sat in his chair for the most part, thinking over everything that had happened that evening. He had the feeling that while there had been the distinct attempt made to try and drain him of his magical ability there was also an attempt to gauge how much of it he had. The fact that he had been able to bind the spirit to its physical form and burn it in the fire with a simple phrase spoken in Latin and a tremendous push of his will despite that not being the way to do it had surprised him, but it hadn't seem to surprise Merlin as much. He got the feeling it hadn't surprised his still nameless and faceless enemy, either. One day he was going to have to work on figuring out his true enemy's identity.

He could feel Merlin's presence near the doorway and it pulled his out of his thoughts. “You made a hasty exit from Molly's home,” he said toward Merlin.

Merlin stepped into the room more. “There was something I needed to finish researching, something I needed to be sure about.”

“Oh?” Sherlock asked, looking up at Merlin.

“It had to do with what the enemy said through the spirit, about the past coming back, about old pupils having long reaches. I thought it might have applied to you, but then I realized you've never had the temperament to be a teacher. And then it hit me and something fell into place.”

“And just what was that?” Sherlock asked curiously.

“The block in Molly's family line. I realized where I had seen it before, and once I got around it I was able to trace Molly's family line back,” Merlin said, moving to stand by the fireplace. He looked down at the remnants of the fire. “What I found is...interesting.”

“How so?” Sherlock asked.

Merlin was quiet for a full minute. “She's a descendent of Morgan le Fay,” he said quietly. 

Sherlock's eyes widened at that. He had brushed up on what he could find of the mythology attached to Merlin, so he had an idea of who the woman was. Sherlock debated for a moment whether he wanted to ask, but he decided he had every right to know. “How much of the mythology behind your name is true?”

“Most of it has a tint of truth,” he said, moving from the fireplace to John's chair and sitting down. “My demise is over-exaggerated, obviously. Nimue _did_ trap me, but not for eternity. Just long enough for Arthur to die and be taken to Avalon. Then I was got free and left to wander the world.” He gave Sherlock a long look. “Morgan had her bad moments, more of them than I would have liked, but she had her good ones, too. Her story is far more complicated than what was in the stories. It always has been.” He was quiet for a few moments. “Her female descendents have always had the possibility to be power enchantresses in their own rights. Most aren't, however. And most who are...”

“Most who are have gone bad,” Sherlock said quietly.

Merlin nodded. “There are differences between them and Molly, though. They started showing their abilities at a very young age, and they tended to be ostracized by their families and society as a whole. They had no friends, no one to support them. They were treated horribly, used and abused. They had horrible lives.”

Sherlock picked up his glass. John had suggested the glass of brandy and while that was not normally something Sherlock would drink he'd agreed. It had done little to warm him up, doing more to fuddle his brain, but twirling the liquid in the glass gave him something to focus on. “She needs to know. We shouldn't keep this from her.”

“I agree,” Merlin said. “Things could get very interesting for her because of her lineage. But it does explain why your enemy targeted her and not you this round. He wants to see what her own powers are.”

“And because we took care of the problem he may assume that they're non-existent?” Sherlock said.

“Perhaps, though if he's smart he'll simply think she has far less talent than you do,” Merlin said. “And she might. The level of power she's shown over the last week might be all she ever has, in which case she can do some basic spell work and probably quite a bit with infusing potions and talismans. Or it could be where her level grows steadily over time, and if that's the case then we need to be prepared for her to be a target just as much as you are.”

Sherlock nodded slowly, concentrating on the liquid in the glass. “She seems ready to handle more, if she gets more,” he said. “If this last week is any indication, at least.”

“It's more than I could have hoped for,” Merlin said. “And if she's anything like Morgan, she'll keep picking it up quickly.” He turned to look at the fire. “I never did get an answer from you if she was going to stay here.”

“She will, until you can get her home as warded as possible,” he said. “We're going tomorrow to pick up a few more things, despite the fact her home is still a disaster. I’ll do the spell you taught me to reverse the damage on the things she wants to bring back here tomorrow and work on the rest of her home later. I'm not sure how often she may stay at her home once she can go back, or how often I may stay here, but it will be nice to have them both as options.”

“So the speed that your relationship is moving at doesn't concern you?” Merlin asked, turning back to Sherlock, who didn't look up from the glass.

“I think I knew, before I fell from the roof, that I cared for Molly,” Sherlock said slowly. “I just wasn't sure how much until we were at the manor at Eynsford and I almost lost her. I don't think I want to live a life without her in it.”

“I thought the same of Nimue, though I will admit I had a more carnal nature to our relationship in mind,” Merlin said. “Be careful of it, though. I don't think Molly would ever purposefully hurt you, but she might be tricked into it, or forced into it against her will.”

Sherlock stopped swirling the drink and lifted it to his lips, taking a swallow. It burned on the way down his throat, but he had to admit it did warm him seconds later. “I know. But that could have happened before, too.”

“Yes, but now there's more at stake if it happens,” Merlin said. “It's not just your life that hangs in the balance. It's more than that.” He stood up and moved over to Sherlock's chair, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest soon, Sherlock. You're going to need it, I think. There may be a lull for now, but I doubt it will last for long.”

Sherlock looked up slightly and nodded, and then after a moment more Merlin was gone. Sherlock turned back to the fire, thinking for a few minutes about the conversation he'd just had before finishing the glass of brandy and standing up. Merlin was right. It would do no one any good if he wasn't rested, because for all he knew his reprieve could end in the morning, and if he was tired and cranky he'd be no good to anyone. He got his pyjamas from his bedroom and took them to the loo to change, then went back to his bedroom when he was done. He glanced at the bed and saw Molly sleeping there, a small smile on her face, as though she was having a pleasant dream. Hopefully the news he had to give her would not wipe the smile off her face, he thought to himself as he got into his bed and pulled her close. He'd never forgive himself for that.


End file.
